


Healing Hands

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Thilbo, bagginshield, have a happy hobbit holiday 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: “Have you become Óin’s assistant?” Bilbo asked. Now that his nose wasn’t completely stuffy anymore, he almost felt like joking again.Thorin showed him a small smile. “You should know that I make quite a talented healer. There is an old saying. ‘The hands of the king are the hands of a healer.’ Maybe you’ve heard of it before?”After their icy barrel escape from the Woodland Realm, Bilbo suffers from a fever, and Thorin takes care of him.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 25
Kudos: 191
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2019





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aliada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliada/gifts).



> Happy holidays @Aliada!!
> 
> I heard that you enjoy subtle fluff and an unexpectedly soft Thorin as well as a confused, yet very pleased and still sassy Bilbo, so I hope you will enjoy this ^-^

Bilbo felt absolutely horrible.

That was nothing new. Since their icy barrel escape from the dungeons of the Woodland Realm, his nose was stuffy, his head was filled with cotton, and his body just wouldn’t stop shivering. The cold and clamminess of Lake-Town hadn’t helped much to improve his condition. If he hadn’t been in such a miserable state, he would have wondered how the people had been able to listen to Thorin’s speech above the chattering of the hobbit’s teeth.

Anyway, they _did_ listen to him, and the prospect of riches from beneath the Mountain had them cheer and promise every help the dwarves could wish for – starting with a warm place for the night. Bilbo had quickly found himself a quiet nook – at least as quiet as was possible amidst the exhilarated people. There was a bright hearth fire burning nearby, but he kept shivering nonetheless. The cold just wouldn’t go away, no matter how tightly he wrapped his threadbare coat around himself. The throbbing in his head had gotten worse as well; Bilbo barely noticed what was happening around him. The room around him had turned quiet; was the feast over already?

The next thing he noticed was a warm hand that pressed softly against his forehead, accompanied by a deep voice that mumbled inaudible yet soothing words.

_Óin,_ Bilbo thought drowsily. _Did my cold get so worse that he has to take care of me?_

He tried to say something, but the croak he managed only got him a gentle “hush” as an answer. The hand moved across his forehead, spreading a pleasant cool over his heated skin.

The hobbit noticed that something was odd. He had seen Óin taking care of injuries before, and although the elderly dwarf was undeniably skilled, he wasn’t exactly what one could call … pampering. Not that the other dwarves complained about the rather rough treatment, of course not. Bilbo wouldn’t have thought, however, that the healer would make an exception when it came to treating their burglar.

_Odd_ , was his last thought before he succumbed to sleep again. _Odd, but quite nice._

_***_

The next time Bilbo woke up, he felt much better already. The throbbing in his head was still there, but had dulled, and he didn’t feel like he was trapped in a block of ice either. Nonetheless he felt weak like a kitten and wouldn’t be able to shrug off the blankets and furs that covered him, let alone sit up.

“Óin?” he croaked and shifted beneath his blankets, trying to catch a glance of his surroundings.

“Rest, Master Baggins. You’re still feverish.”

Now _that_ voice wasn’t the one Bilbo had expected, and his curiosity spurred him even more to finally sit up. A wave of dizziness immediately sent him back against the pillows, though, and he had to content himself with turning his head to the side.

“Thorin?”

The king approached his bed – made for a human, Bilbo noticed, and thus far too big for him. “Rest”, he repeated, not unkindly. “You’ve been sleeping for some while, and you shouldn’t overdo it. Here, let me help you.” He was carrying a bowl in his hands, and with his support Bilbo managed to drink a few sips. It was a rather awkward affair, though – Thorin had to help him sit up and tilt back his head, and still the situation ended with water dripping from the hobbit’s chin.

“I’ll manage”, he hastily assured before the dwarf could even think of cleaning his face like a mother did with her faunt’s. Bilbo’s heart was already thumping in his chest, and not just from the exertion. Being close to Thorin, and being treated so gently at that, would have been enough to make even a hobbit that was healthy go all dizzy. He was rather happy to flop back into the pillows again.

While he was catching his breath again, Bilbo watched Thorin moving around the room. The dwarf refilled the bowl, but then he turned towards a crooked table, his back to the hobbit. He couldn’t see what he was doing, but soon the room filled with a pleasant scent that chased away the remnants of his headache and made breathing easier.

“Have you become Óin’s assistant?” Bilbo eventually asked. Now that his nose wasn’t completely stuffy anymore, he almost felt like joking again.

Thorin showed him a small smile. “You should know that I make quite a talented healer.”

“Indeed? I thought Óin was the only one with a knack for such things.” Then again, Thorin hadn’t deemed him someone who knew how to play the harp upon their first meeting … or to have such a heart-breakingly beautiful singing voice.

The dwarf returned to his side; the cleansing scent still rose from the bowl. “There is an old saying. ‘The hands of the king are the hands of a healer.’ Maybe you’ve heard of it before?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I’ve never seen you do … you know, healer stuff. Mixing potions, collecting herbs, things like that.”

“It isn’t a talent I decided to pursue.” Thorin took a clean cloth out of the bowl, wringed it out and gingerly placed it on Bilbo’s forehead.

“What a shame.” The hobbit sighed with content. “Thanks to you, I’m feeling much better already.”

Thorin was silent for a while. “I did try to pursue it, though”, he eventually said, sitting down on a stool next to the bed; it looked just as crooked as the table. “But being a healer is an ungrateful task during exile.” He looked into the depths of the water bowl as if it was filled with memories. “I walked amongst my people after the fall of Erebor, trying to ease the pain of their burns. I sat with the wounded after the Battle of Azanulbizar, doing what little I could do. And when we settled down in the Blue Mountains, people would sometimes come to me, asking for my help. I hardly had the means, but nobody could afford the medicine offered by travelling merchants.” He allowed himself a sigh. “I’ve learned that a warrior is what a folk in exile needs, not a healer.”

Bilbo watched him for a while, pondering his words. Then he asked: “What changed your mind?”

Thorin looked up from the bowl, clearly surprised. “Why do you think I changed my mind?”

“Well … this here.” Bilbo freed his hand from beneath the blankets and gestured around the room. “You decided to be _my_ healer, after all.”

He saw with delight that Thorin’s whole face lit up with a soft smile, one that made his eyes twinkle as well. “It’s the least I could do for you.” The hobbit must have blinked at him, rather obvious in his confusion, for he added: “After you vouched for me.”

“Oh.” Bilbo snuggled deeper into his blankets again, hoping that his blush would be mistaken for the fever. “Ahem, you make it sound as if I did something special.”

“You _did_ something special.” The dwarf eyed him in a way that made him feel all fidgety. “There was nobody else there. You told the people of Lake-Town that I would stay true to my word. If not for you – ”

“Please”, the hobbit interrupted him, almost with a groan. “You sound as if I had been exaggerating, or promised them everything under the sun just to get them to help us! I was just telling the truth.”

“The truth, hm?” Thorin’s eyes still lingered on him.

“Well, yes. I believe that you will stand to your word. You’re not someone to deceive other people for his own gain, or to give a promise lightly.”

There was something wistful about Thorin’s tiny smile. “I sound rather noble, the way you describe me.”

“Probably because you _are_ noble, Thorin. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that you didn’t step right out of a book of fairy tales.”

“I wonder …” The dwarf’s voice was little more than a whisper, and Bilbo had to strain his ears to hear him. “I wonder – will there be a happy fairy tale ending for me?”

Maybe it was the vulnerability in his words – a vulnerability that was mirrored in Thorin’s eyes –, maybe it was the softness of his voice. Or maybe it was the fever that clouded Bilbo’s judgement. Whatever it was, he left his cocoon of warm blankets to learn towards Thorin and cover his hand with his own. The dwarf looked up to meet his gaze, surprise written on his face.

“Of course”, Bilbo said gently, “the noble hero always gets his happy ending.”

Thorin’s eyes widened at this statement, but then his gaze softened, and a smile brightened up his face. “What about your part in the story, Bilbo? Are you the otherworldly, benevolent being that makes the impossible come true? The one the noble hero would be lost without?” Cautiously, almost hesitantly he brought Bilbo’s hand to his lips and grazed a kiss on his knuckles. A tremor ran through the hobbit, one that wasn’t caused by the cold. “I hope”, Thorin said, his breath warm against Bilbo’s skin, “that our stories will stay intertwined, even when Erebor has been reclaimed.”

Oh, the dizziness he felt had definitely nothing to do with his cold, nothing at all!

“And I hope”, he replied with flushed cheeks, “that you’re really as talented a healer as you claim. Because I would very, very much like to kiss you right now” – Thorin blushed, and what a wonderful sight that was – “but I’m afraid that isn’t a good idea, with my stuffy nose and the dizziness and the general horrible state I’m in. But, you know, I don’t feel very patient right now.”

Thorin still stared at him, his face red and his mouth wide open, but finally he broke into a smile. “Then rest”, he said. “You will feel much better when you wake up again, and I promise I’ll be at your side when you wake up.”

Bilbo snuggled into his blankets again and closed his eyes. “I’m looking forward to it.”

His hand was still intertwined with Thorin’s.


End file.
